


Stable (day 7- "Don't move")

by Only_Slightly_Obsessed (A_Stressed_Cupcake)



Series: Rémy's 2020 Multifandom Whumptober Works [7]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Whumptober 2020, being a dum dum, but it's fine we love him, it's ok though he's fine guys I promise, protective III
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26934325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Stressed_Cupcake/pseuds/Only_Slightly_Obsessed
Summary: Using an enormous amount of energy isn’t as big a problem as it sounds, Chris told him. The problem is stabilizing it enough that it doesn’t destroy everything within its very vast range._____Whumptober 2020- day 7: "Don't move"
Relationships: III/being a protective dum dum
Series: Rémy's 2020 Multifandom Whumptober Works [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1965271
Kudos: 3
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Stable (day 7- "Don't move")

**Author's Note:**

> cw: canon-typical nonspecific injury

Using an enormous amount of energy isn’t as big a problem as it sounds, Chris told him. The problem is stabilizing it enough that it doesn’t destroy everything within its very vast range.

Case in point, the security turret they were making in the lab.

Oh, sure, the power it stored is more than enough to deter any potential intruders. Unfortunately, the machine's AI is currently having a little trouble deciding  _ who _ the intruders are. The turret's laser pointer bathes the lab in an almost theatrical red light. And it seems ready to attack every single one of them. 

"Don't move." warns Tron, stock-still beside him, "It reacts to movement."

"The power is building anyway." murmur Kaito.

Chris, about a foot away from him, finishes that thought: "With every breath we take, it's closer to shooting. If someone doesn't deactivate it…"

Michael tries to breathe slower. He wishes he could turn to look at the rest of the group, but he is right in front of the turret and he can't afford to move that much. He feels his back go stiff with anxiety.

"Father…" he whispers, moving his lips as little as possible. The light blinks as a warning.

"It's alright. Don't move." comes the answer. It seems his father heard him after all.

Thomas, strangely, hasn't said a word. The anxiety gets worse. Why is he so quiet? Is he alright? He was all the way at the back of the group the last time he saw him. Which means he's out of everyone's sight. Which is not where anyone half as impulsive as Thomas should be.

He decides to call out to him, trying to move his lips as little as humanly possible: "Thomas?"

No one answers for a few seconds. He is so close to turning around. Then-

"I'm going to turn it around." says a voice from the back of the group. 

"Thomas, no." hisses their father, "You're too far away. By the time you get there, it will have shot us."

The gears click in Michael's mind. 

If the problem is that Thomas is too far away, there's a very simple solution. He's sure the others won't like it. But the power is building. The sooner he acts, the less damage to all of them. 

The turret is about three feet away from him. 

Slowly, he shifts his weight so that he can break into a sprint. Maybe it won't be necessary, but…

Chris is the first to notice that he's moving: "Michael, what are you doing?"

"We have to act while the power is still non-lethal." he answers, gritting his teeth.

From behind him comes a choir of protests and pleas, because  _ what are you doing, Michael, this is insane, you're gonna get hurt, _ etc. It's not going to stop him. Someone was going to move anyway. It might as well be him.

In the instant of tension before he can spring into action, when all his muscles are strung together and pointed towards a singular goal, one voice rises above the rest.

" _ Michael, don't!! _ "

That settles it. If he waits a moment longer, it'll be Thomas who runs, and that won't be good for either of them.

He points his foot.

Before the turret can register what he's doing, he lunges forward, aiming at the delicate underside of the energy gun. 

It's like being struck by lightning.

The beam of concentrated energy hits him, square in the chest, scorching away half of his right sleeve on the way. 

He doesn't scream. He doesn't have the voice to. 

When he hits the ground, falling on his side, he can see the turret pointing at the ceiling for a moment, just before his eldest brother enters his field of vision. The light fades to a reassuring blue.

Michael smiles quietly. He wishes he could answer their questions but, honestly, he can't hear them over the ringing in his ears. 

It's good enough for him that they have the voice to ask them in the first place.

Someone turns him on his back.

Their confused voices go silent.

The last thing he feels before passing out is a gloved hand clutching his. The last thing he hears is no more than a whisper.

" _ I told you not to move _ …"

**Author's Note:**

> Another prologue of sorts to a fic in the works. If III whump is your thing, keep an eye out for it. The whole family gets angsted, because they're free angst.
> 
> -Rémy


End file.
